Chapter 17: The Proposition

The waterfall was Niklas's idea.

"A place where no one can find us," he said, taking my hand. "A place where we don't have to be leaders or warriors or anything but ourselves."

He led me through the forest, past the meadow where we had fought, past the caves where we had hidden, to a place I had never seen before. A canyon. Steep walls of black rock, covered in moss and ivy. And at the bottom, a pool of water so clear I could see the stones beneath the surface.

The waterfall spilled over the cliff above, silver and white, filling the air with mist and the sound of rushing water.

"It's beautiful," I whispered.

"It's ours." Niklas turned to face me. "No Council. No packs. No war. Just us."

"Just us," I repeated.

He touched my face. His fingers were warm against my cold skin.

"Elif," he said. "I need to ask you something."

"What?"

"Do you want a child?"

My heart stopped.

"Niklas—"

"I'm not asking because of the prophecy. I'm not asking because of the First Wolf." He stepped closer. "I'm asking because I want one. With you. When you're ready. If you're ever ready."

I looked into his eyes. Storm-gray. Soft. Hopeful.

"I want to live with you first," I said. "Really live. Not running. Not hiding. Just… being."

"Together."

"Together." I smiled. "And then, maybe… yes. Someday. A child."

He kissed me.

Soft. Gentle. A promise.

The water was cold.

Niklas led me into the pool, his hand in mine, his eyes never leaving my face. The mist from the waterfall clung to my skin, raising goosebumps everywhere.

"It's freezing," I gasped.

"You'll warm up." He pulled me closer. "I'll make sure of it."

His arms wrapped around me, and he was right. The heat of his body seeped into mine, chasing away the cold. My wet clothes clung to my skin. His clung to him. There was nothing between us but water and want.

"Niklas," I whispered.

"Elif."

He kissed my forehead. My cheeks. My lips.

His hands slid under my shirt, pushing the wet fabric up, exposing my stomach to the cool air. I shivered.

"Cold?" he asked.

"No." I reached for him, pulling his shirt over his head. "Not anymore."

His chest was bare against mine. Skin to skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. I could feel the scars on his back beneath my fingers, the ridges of old wounds that had healed long ago.

"Turn around," he said.

I turned.

He unbuttoned my shirt slowly, one button at a time, his lips pressing against my shoulder with each one. When the last button came free, he pushed the fabric off my shoulders and let it fall into the water.

I was naked.

He was still wearing his pants.

"Niklas—"

"Shh." His hands circled my waist, pulling me back against his chest. His lips found my ear. "Let me look at you."

I closed my eyes.

His hands moved up my stomach, over my ribs, to my breasts. His fingers were rough and gentle at the same time, calloused from years of fighting but soft in the way they touched me.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "So beautiful."

I leaned my head back against his shoulder. His mouth found my neck—kissing, sucking, biting. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark.

"Mine," he growled.

"Yours," I agreed.

He turned me around and lifted me.

My legs wrapped around his waist. His hands cupped my backside, holding me against him. I could feel him through his pants—hard and ready and wanting.

"Tell me to stop," he said.

"Don't you dare."

He carried me to the edge of the pool and laid me down on a flat rock. The stone was cold against my back, but his body was warm on top of mine.

His mouth traveled down my body.

My throat. My collarbone. The swell of my breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, and I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair.

"Niklas…"

"Shh." His tongue circled the sensitive peak. "Let me."

He moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention, the same care. My hips arched against him, seeking friction, seeking more.

"Patience," he said against my skin.

"I don't have patience."

"I know." He smiled. "That's why I love you."

He kissed his way down my stomach, past my navel, to the place where my thighs met my body. I held my breath.

"Niklas."

"Trust me."

His mouth found me.

I cried out.

The sound echoed off the canyon walls—half gasp, half moan, half wolf. Because the wolf was there too, inside me, feeling everything he was doing to me.

His tongue. His lips. His teeth, gentle on the most sensitive part of me.

I came apart beneath him.

He climbed back up my body, his lips glistening, his eyes dark.

"I'm not done with you," he said.

"Good." I reached for his pants, pulling at the wet fabric. "Because I'm not done with you either."

He helped me push them down. His body was revealed to me—every muscle, every scar, every part of him that made him him.

I reached between us and touched him.

He groaned.

"Elif…"

"You told me to trust you." I wrapped my hand around him, feeling his heat, his hardness. "Now you trust me."

I guided him to my entrance.

He pushed inside me, slow and careful, giving me time to adjust. The stretch was intense—almost painful—but the wolf inside me welcomed it, needed it.

"Okay?" he asked, his forehead pressed against mine.

"More than okay."

He began to move.

The rhythm started slow.

In and out. In and out. His hips rolling against mine, his breath hot on my face, his hands gripping my hips.

Then it built.

Faster. Harder. Deeper.

I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, taking him deeper. My nails raked down his back, leaving red trails that would heal by morning but felt like fire now.

He bit my neck.

I howled.

The sound was pure wolf—primal and wild and free. He answered with a growl, his body shuddering against mine.

"Mine," he snarled.

"Yours."

"Mine."

"Yours."

The world narrowed to the two of us. The waterfall. The rock. The way he filled me, the way I surrounded him, the way we moved together like we had been made for each other.

He reached between us and touched me.

I shattered.

The orgasm ripped through me like a storm, wave after wave of pleasure so intense I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't be anything but this.

Niklas followed.

He buried himself deep inside me and groaned my name—"Elif"—and I felt him pulse inside me, hot and wet and perfect.

We lay there, tangled together, our bodies slick with water and sweat and each other.

"Ben seninim," he whispered in Turkish. I am yours.

"Ben de senin," I answered. I am yours too.

Above us, the sky lit up.

Auroras. Green and purple and gold, dancing across the stars.

We had made them.

Together.

I fell asleep in his arms.

The dream came without warning.

I was standing in a forest—not the one near the stronghold, but somewhere older. Somewhere sacred. The trees were massive, their trunks wider than houses, their branches reaching toward a sky that had no sun.

And in the center of the forest stood my father.

He looked younger than I remembered. Stronger. His dark hair was free of gray, his face free of lines. He was wearing the same leather jacket he had worn in the old photographs, the one my mother had burned after he died.

"Baba?" I whispered.

"Kızım." My daughter. He smiled. "You've grown."

"You're dead."

"I know." He stepped closer. "But death isn't the end. Not for our kind. Not for you."

"What do you want?"

"I want to warn you." His smile faded. "You think the war is over. You think Liesel was the enemy. You think the Council will leave you alone now."

"Won't they?"

"No." He reached out and touched my face. His hand was cold. "The Council is the enemy, Elif. They've always been the enemy. They killed me. They used Liesel. They've been manipulating everything—and everyone—for centuries."

"Why?"

"Because the First Wolf's power is the only thing that can stop them. And they'll do anything to make sure it never wakes up."

"Even kill?"

"Especially kill."

I stared at him.

"What do I do?" I asked.

He smiled again—sad and proud and loving.

"You find the truth," he said. "You find the relic. And you wake the wolf."

"But Niklas said—"

"Niklas doesn't know everything." My father's form began to fade. "Trust your instincts, Elif. Trust your blood. And trust him. He's the only one who won't betray you."

"Baba—"

"Find the relic. Wake the wolf. Save us all."

He disappeared.

I woke up.

Niklas was still asleep beside me, his arm draped over my stomach, his breath warm on my neck.

I stared at the auroras fading in the sky and thought about my father's words.

The Council is the enemy.

Find the relic.

Wake the wolf.

I pressed my hand to my stomach—to the place where Niklas had been inside me, to the place where a child might one day grow.

"What are you?" I whispered to myself. "What are we becoming?"

The wolf didn't answer.

But somewhere deep in my blood, something stirred.